


The Nizam of Hyderabad, Chapter 5: Ad Libitum

by SirJosephBanksFRS



Series: The Nizam of Hyderabad [5]
Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 17:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirJosephBanksFRS/pseuds/SirJosephBanksFRS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen realises his long-awaited dream of naturalising in Tristan da Cuhna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nizam of Hyderabad, Chapter 5: Ad Libitum

_Surprise at Sea_

_12 December 1820_

  
_Sweetheart,_

_We have just quit Recife, where I was fortunate to be able to drop my packet of letters for you and very surprised to receive yours. Our voyage, as I have written, has for the most part been very uneventful so far, except as I have mentioned, the unfortunate circumstance that one of the Sethians, Samuel Jennings, is extremely ill and appears to be a Jonah and is more or less permanently confined to the sick berth. Not that any of that is here nor there, except that poor Stephen is now required to care for him virtually entirely on his own on what was supposed to be a pleasure trip for him. Our people comport themselves in the most dutiful manner with this singular exception. The crew stubbornly refuse to have anything whatever to do with Jennings or on his behalf, no matter how trivial and now I see that merchant captains are perhaps far more enterprising and clever than I had ever given them credit, for there is no way for me to compel anyone to do anything. The social compact that exists on the ship won’t admit of it. Tis quite a different kettle of fish, I find, with no bosun’s mate, no cat, no grating to be rigged and no Articles of War._  
  
 _Not that I have any desire to see any man struck, not even the most odious little scrub, but it do tend to put the fear of God into them and they would obey. Not that anyone amongst them has ever defied a direct order from me -- I know far better, Sophie, than to attempt to give a man a command he will refuse to obey and that I have no way of inspiring him or compelling him to obey. That is a receipt for mutiny. They are in every way respectful and obedient in every measure except this one thing, fearing that they should quite literally die a long, painful death should they have any truck with Jennings. Never have I been so conscious of the fact that their obedience is now subject to if they so please and as it stands, any order pertaining to Jennings pleases them not. Stephen bears not one whit of a grudge against any of them for their would be disobedience, even as it inconveniences him so thoroughly, but he has given me quite a series of lectures on his opinions circa the "willful ignorance" of sailors in general and the British sailor in particular. It is a damned strange thing to be an Admiral, even a Rear Admiral at that and to have a fourteen year old boy at one's command who will not obey, when I think that at fourteen, I thought every Admiral a being as close to God Almighty as I would ever meet but these are modern times of peace and this Jonah business is a particularly tricky thing, given Stephen is_ Surprise's _owner and believes neither in the existence of Jonahs nor the practise of flogging._

_As we were in Recife, I thought we might leave that poor unfortunate soul in hospital there and brought it up to Stephen. You would have thought I had suggested that he leave Brigid there. You well know how he can be when he is cross. He spoke to me so hellfire fierce, brought me up sharp and let me know that he did not think much of my proffering advice on any patient of his. Why, he almost spoke chuff to me and I was civil and as meek as a church mouse afterward and apologised profusely. No, I am not about his business; no, it is not for me to teach him his trade; no, I do not hold with the lowest cant and rank superstition. I believe his objection to putting Jennings down in hospital was that he feared that the poor man with his extremely irregular and unorthodox religious beliefs would be in for it, dying in a country full of Papists that has an actual office for their Inquisition. Coming from Stephen, that is rather ironic, ain’t it? Though he always has been most liberal and respectful of any of the various heathens we have run across over the years, not like a Papist at all, really, not in the least Jesuitical, bless him. I could not in any manner, of course, make any observation about this or continue any discussion. It is rather odd that Stephen and I have been particular friends for so many years and I cannot possibly say a word to him about this matter, but he always has been extremely touchy when it comes to his patients. Not that he should not be, of course, he is always in the right of it and I would not have Philoctetes himself or whomever that great Greek doctor was for my physician instead of Stephen._

_We were able to stop and let Stephen wallow in the filth at St. Paul’s Rocks and you would have thought he had gone to Fiddler’s Green with what he brought back with him to the ship. We have spent many days and nights poring over the charts and maps and for our first great expedition, we will be stopping at Tristan da Cuhna. Finally. All these years, I have felt the cruelest tyrant who ever lived, a regular Draco or Titus, Sweetheart, in denying him opportunity after opportunity to make a landing on Tristan’s adjacent islands, time and time again; dragging him away from the beach of Tristan itself, in one case, having to send a file of armed Marines to do so, so many years back when he spoke so sharply to poor Bonden and Joe Plaice that Bonden looked as though his nurse had whipped him within an inch of his life and boxed his ears furiously until they bled. Lord knows Stephen's tongue can be the cruelest scourge imaginable when he is vexed. Why, he would sit and peer into an empty nest for hours and hours and then complain bitterly that he had failed to have yet made his soundings completely and properly before he was pulled away because of duty, that is the ship’s duty. Finally, poor old Stephen shall be able to make hay whilst the sun shines on the righteous and the wicked alike, or more likely, it rains, for it is always raining in Tristan da Cunha. He may, I hope, naturalise to his heart’s content there. I do pray that seven days and nights shall be enough for him. I also hope I may represent to him the wisdom of putting Jennings in hospital in the Cape without ruffling any more of his feathers. If so, then you shall be reading this sooner rather than later._

 

Stephen's supreme joy was finally realised towards the end of December, when they made anchor at the islands in the group broadly called Tristan da Cuhna. For the first time, after twenty years of frustrated yearning, he would be free to naturalise there as long as he wished. For once in his life, there would be no, “Come, Stephen, there is not a moment to be lost!” from Jack's lips. None of _Surprise’s_ crewman would be dragging him across the beach and into the cutter, speaking to him as though he were a small child being taken away from carnival to be put to bed. _Surprise_ would spend seven glorious days and nights there, allowing Stephen to wander Tristan da Cunha, where he had been before when Jack had stopped at the Royal Marine garrison and adjacent Nightingale and Gough Islands which were completely uninhabited and which he had never touched. He would land on Inaccessible, as well, on the beach, but true to its name, he could not ascend her steep cliffs, the smallest of which rose a mere three hundred feet as opposed to the thousand foot ones on the other side of the island. This did not deter him in the least from collecting specimens on the beach.  
  
Nightingale and its connected islet and smaller adjoining islet were covered with literally millions of birds. Jack took Stephen out early that morning in the jolly boat the first day they made landfall on Nightingale and they landed on the only sandy beach the tiny island had to offer, off an inlet on her south side. Atypically, it was a very sunny day and there was no sign of rain, indeed, not a cloud in the sky and it was quite warm, warm enough that Doctor Maturin immediately removed his coat and waistcoat.

"Faith, have you ever seen such a spectacular sight?" Stephen said.

"Why, never, soul." Jack said, thinking how much it looked like every other bird-covered rock he had ever deposited Stephen upon. The observation was not actually correct, for it was a volcanic island with twin peaks rising about a thousand feet and there was abundant vegetation. Nightingale was quite verdant now in the beginning of the Antarctic summer and it was no flat rock. Her volcanic peaks rose to the north of where they stood. The wind blew strongly and the smell was of rotting fish and the strong ammonia of the guano of millions of birds. There were more birds than either of them had ever seen. Jack pulled the jolly boat well up on the beach past the high tide mark, remembering Stephen's propensity for forgetting tides and not noticing that he had become marooned.

"A quick calculation of what we see here is, I would say easily three pairs of birds per square yard. What paradise! Give me joy -- that is _Eudyptes chrysocome_ , the rockhopper penguin. Right next to it is _Thallasarche chlororhynchos_ , the yellow nosed albatross! Oh, Jack!" Stephen cried, exultant. "They have no notion of humanity whatever. That bird next to you, that tern, _Sterna vittata_ , the Antarctic tern -- do attempt to touch the top of its head, Jack, if you please." Jack did and the bird took predictable exception to his untoward familiarity and pecked him so hard his hand bled profusely. Stephen came over and took Jack's hand in his and examined it, looking at the tear in the thenar space, between Jack's thumb and the palm of his left hand.

"Bless you, Stephen, tis just a scratch." Jack said, embarrassed but mindful of the scolding he would get from Killick if he were to wipe the blood on his coat.

"Go wash it in the seawater post haste. Squeeze it now and make it bleed copiously, my dear. The salt is all the physic that should be required. I do ask your pardon, Jack. I should have done it myself.”

They spent five hours there, Jack following Stephen and carrying his cages and baskets. They stopped and had dinner surrounded by albatrosses, eating the basket that Killick had packed for them, including some of his very best sanglewiches of cold mutton. Jack took his coat off and unbuttoned his waistcoat, it was so very warm and they sat on rocks not occupied by birds, shooing them away from their food.

"It is quite large." Jack said looking around. "Small, yes, but not so very small. It is at least a square mile.”

"So it is. Much larger than our island was." Stephen said. Jack knew immediately to which island Stephen was referring: the tiny jewel they had spent the night on in the middle of the South Pacific, after Stephen had fallen out of the stern windows of _Surprise_ , so long, long ago, before Jack had been stricken off the Navy list.

"Quite so. Why, they are as different as chalk and cheese. Stephen, you have never expressed the desire to make love outdoors ever again." Jack said.

"So I have not."

"My God, it seems a lifetime ago, don't it?" Jack said, smiling at the memory. He could remember only the happy parts now, not the terrible fear that had gripped him at the time, that he and Stephen would die of thirst on that island, long before Mowett would ever find them.

"It was long ago." Stephen said. "But not so long ago. It is, dearest joy, a fond memory," Stephen said, "a very fond memory, despite the sand. Were there nothing here, as there was nothing there, I should importune you, my dear. As it is, I do not fancy the idea of us exposing ourselves before these thousands of birds, not after what happened to your hand."

"God forbid!" Jack said, shuddering at the thought of it, a vivid image of what a foul tempered albatross with a sharp beak that could instantly disembowel a mackerel could do to him flashing across his consciousness. They finished eating and Stephen shooed the albatrosses away from their basket, cursing at the most brazen of them in Irish.

Jack had brought his telescope and made multiple observations from the island, noting the treacherous currents running north, off of her west coast as they ascended the slope. He wished Tom Pullings were there to see it. Approaching Tristan from the South was a clearly a very tricky proposition. He asked Stephen to make a note of his observations, as he brought nothing to write with or on and Stephen gladly obliged him.

Jack had been eager to go out with Stephen for the opportunity of a very long, completely private conversation. After a wary sounding out on Jack’s part, it was decided that they would put into the Cape, after all. Dr. Maturin had agreed with the Admiral, after long, long discussion, despite there not really being much of a reason to do so, beyond taking on fresher provisions. _Surprise_ having been more than handsomely outfitted in Shelmerston and they had stopped in Recife and they lacked for nothing when it came to spars, masts and cordage. Jack knew not to come at it too high when it came to Jennings. He dared not intimate in way, shape or manner that he for one, would be breathing a giant sigh of relief, once the man was safely billeted in hospital, for he knew that Stephen was more than capable of giving him a tongue-lashing that would make him wish, at least momentarily, that he had never been born.

Jack took them back for Stephen to attend to Jennings in the sick bay. Stephen was then taken back to Nightingale in the cutter by two other _Surprises_ , including Henry Gage, who now served as Jack’s coxswain. Gage was a perfectly affable fellow, friendly and attentive to his duty, but Stephen realised how very much he still missed Bonden. It had been five years, but Stephen could not be taken out from _Surprise_ by Gage without thinking of Barrett Bonden and saying a prayer for him.

 

That night, they had their late supper in the cabin. Killick brought toasted Funchal cheese and two decanters, one of Madeira and one of port and they stayed up late, playing Locatelli’s sonata in A major for violin and violoncello.

“So what was your greatest find today?” Jack said, sitting back and smiling when they had finished their music.

“It is so very difficult to say. Did you see my broad billed prion? My brown skua?" Stephen cried. "My dear, dear sooty albatross, which appeared actually intoxicated from eating so much when I approached it and subsequently died and which I have now seen has actual naricorns in the bill, the creature? I suppose I should pick out the two different and distinct and very rare buntings as my treasures, I find. Unknown to science, perhaps, though I shall not be completely certain of that fact until we get back to London. I scarcely know whether to classify them as finches, buntings or tanagers. What richness, what sublime variety, what an earthly paradise is Nightingale! Such an apt name, even if it were named for a ship’s captain.”

“You caught them? The buntings?”

“So I did. They must know no predation from the ground. It seems that none of the nestlings are eaten by other birds, they coexist perfectly. I merely slid up to their nests and took two of each of the fledglings. I hope the mothers do not grieve themselves to distraction, poor creatures. They are in my cabin and I am feeding them mashed seeds when I go down to give Mr. Jennings his soup. Luckily, Jemmy Ducks will cosset my little birds when I am away, even if he will not feed poor Jennings.”

Killick and his mate came in to get the things and Jack dismissed them for the night. They sat there drinking the last of the port. Stephen rose and locked the cabin door after Killick had left. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Tonight, I feel as though all of the frustrations we faced at home to set out were all worth it." Stephen said, pulling his chair next to Jack's. "I do not recall being so ebullient in many a year. I thank you, joy, so very, very much for this utterly superb day." Stephen said, taking Jack's hand and looking at where the tern had pecked him. Stephen raised Jack's hand gently to his lips.

"It was uncommon warm and dry in Tristan for late December today." Jack said. "I scarce know what to make of it." He stood and untied Stephen's neck cloth, leaning forward and kissing his neck. "Uncommon warm." He repeated hoarsely, his voice dropping a register as he swayed, kissing Stephen below the ear.

"You beat to quarters in the morning, Jack?" Stephen said, looking up into Jack’s face, at the familiar glazed look in his eyes, his jaw going slack, as it frequently did when desire transfixed him.

"Yes." Jack said, so hoarsely that he coughed to clear his throat.

"Well, then, my dear, there is not a moment to be lost, is there, for all love?" Stephen said, rising and taking Jack’s hand in his and pulling him to the stern lockers.


End file.
